Head Case
by Myrddin Emrys The Third
Summary: After a rather embarassing drunken encounter with Hermione, Draco takes it upon himself to seduce the Gryffindor properly. Lemons! Completely trashed with nowhere to go, so its discontinued and left as a one shot now. Sorry.


**So, I've been going over everything recovered from my laptop that I recently got back (cheers and punches air in happiness) and I've been going through everything on it, both posted and not posted. It's a lot of work, but I'm getting there. In the meantime, I'm trying to get chapters completed, though I refuse to rush anything. Anyway, this already had a chapter done, and I decided to post it after I went through it. Please enjoy.**

**Disclaimer, I don't own the Harry Potter characters, franchise or whatever. Just this story...**

_**Head Case**_

**Chapter One**

She stood underneath the spray, letting the water wash over her, cleansing more than just her body. For Hermione, bathing represented more than just washing away sweat and dirt, it was also a way for her to relax, put the day into perspective, and go to bed with a clear mind. This way, when she woke the next morning, she'd put aside all her anger and frustration from anything that had happened, and could start afresh. And with a room mate like the one she had, she definitely needed it.

Hermione had been overjoyed to discover that she'd been made Head Girl for her final year at Hogwarts, but when she'd found out who'd been made Head Boy, well, she felt that a terrible mistake had been made. There was no way that Draco Malfoy could have gotten the position, not with everything that had happened. She'd thought that perhaps a Ravenclaw might have gotten the spot, like Michael Corner or Terry Boot, but not _him_.

It was the general consensus, after all, that Malfoy had never done any of his work for himself, bullying other students into doing his homework and relying on _Daddy _to buy his grades. But then he'd surprised her this year when she gave him an impromptu quiz in her frustration to prove just such a thing true, and he'd answered all her questions, _correctly_, without missing a beat. And then of course he'd given her his trademark smirk and told her to pick her jaw up off the floor.

That had been two weeks ago, merely two days into the new school year, and since then, the only interaction they'd had was about Head duties, but even then he still managed to make her crazy. He kept inviting Blaise Zabini over, who had no compunction whatsoever about making her feel three inches tall. It was obvious that Malfoy had told his 'best friend' about what had happened, because Zabini kept gloating how Malfoy's grades were good enough to give her own a run for their money.

Right now, it was three days until her birthday, 19th of September. Ron had already let slip that there was a surprise party planned for her in Gryffindor tower, and he'd turned absolutely red when he'd realised his mistake, stuttering as he tried to cover it up. But Hermione was wise to it now, not that she minded that her friends were throwing her a party. She knew that both Harry and Ron were feeling guilty about last year, but that wasn't their fault. She promised Ron, though, that she would act surprised.

Last year for her birthday, they'd been on the run, hunting down horcruxes, so it was no one's fault. It had to be done, and Hermione would gladly sacrifice all her birthdays for a cause like that. Of course, it was that mentality that gave her the reputation as a goody-two-shoes. But it was true, though, she really was one.

A loud crash sounded from the common room and she frowned. Better to be a goody-two-shoes than a noxious ferret, any day. She figured that Malfoy must be back now, from wherever he'd been before. Considering that it was nearly eleven, he'd probably been down in the dungeons for a rendezvous with some Slytherin tart. _Probably Parkinson, _Hermione thought, disgust running through her at the thought of that shrill, clingy little parasite.

Her shower was over now, one way or another. If she took too long in here, Malfoy might make good on the threat he'd voiced their first night if she took too long when he wanted to put the bathroom to use, and just burst in here. There was no way she wanted that, so she quickly towelled herself off and dressed in her nightclothes, which consisted of a pair of shorts and tank top with an expensive silk robe thrown over it. The first time she'd worn the robe, Malfoy'd raised an eyebrow, and she'd told him to mind his own business.

Stepping out of the bathroom, though, she came face to face with her room mate, and she flushed slightly at what she saw. Malfoy was only wearing a pair of pants, which hung low on his hips, allowing her to see a small trail of… er… hair from down there. But then the blush was wiped from her face when he leaned closer to her and she smelled alcohol on his breath.

"Good lord, Malfoy! Are you drunk already? It's not even eleven yet!" she exclaimed.

"It's not my fault!" he defended, swaying dangerously. "Blaise bet I couldn't drink an entire bottle of Firewhiskey in one go, but I showed him! Ha!"

He swayed again, this time stumbling forward, straight towards her. On some instinct that she'd never had before, Hermione reached out and caught him, stumbling back a little under the onslaught of his weight.

"Uh, Granger," Malfoy groaned, "I think I need to throw up."

Hermione let go of him and watched as he dashed for the toilet, emptying the contents of his stomach into the porcelain bowl. "It serves you right for drinking a whole bottle of firewhiskey like that," she told him as he continued to heave.

"Oh shut up, Miss Goody-Goody," Malfoy groaned in between retching. "We can't all be saints like the mighty Gryffindors!"

Ignoring his comment, Hermione went to their little kitchen and filled a glass with water, returning to the bathroom to find Malfoy brushing his teeth. She wondered how much he had eaten at dinner, since he'd thrown up quite a lot just before. In any case, she forced the glass into his hand as he sat on the edge of the bathtub and made him drink every last drop.

"Feel better now?" she asked when he was done.

"Not even slightly," he told her, the glass slipping from his fingers, though she caught it and put it on the side of the sink.

"Come on," she said, pulling him up and swinging his arm over her shoulder, making him lean on her. "You need to get to bed and sleep it all off."

"Will you sleep with me and make it all better?" Malfoy slurred, his normal cockiness shining through his drunken misery.

"Not a chance, Malfoy," Hermione told him. "Now come on, I can't drag you the whole way to your room!"

Once they reached his door, she opened it, slight curiosity at what his room was like overcoming her. It wasn't like she'd ever gone in there to see before this, it was _Malfoy's _room after all. She was pleasantly surprised to see that it was like hers, with the four poster bed, desk, wardrobe and duchess all in pretty much the same alignment as her own, and it wasn't green and silver, just as hers wasn't red and gold. No, it was a nice brown and cream, and the only difference between their rooms was that Malfoy had a bunch of his stuff just lying around. _Her _room was much neater.

"Malfoy, you're a slob," Hermione muttered as she hauled him over to his bed.

She fully intended to simply dump him on his bed and leave, but once he was on there, he grabbed onto her wrists with surprising strength, considering the state he was supposedly in, and pulled her down with him so that she landed rather heavily on him.

"Malfoy!" she snapped, not noticing the fact that her robe had come undone. "Let me go!"

He looked down her body, and it was then that she became aware of the fact that she was exposed to him, and she struggled against him, wanting to grab her robe and close it from his eyes. But her struggles seemed to stir him into action, and Malfoy pulled her under him, laying his body over hers and effectively trapping her beneath him.

"Malfoy!" she cried again. "Let me go!"

"You talk too much, Granger," he slurred, then bent down to kiss her.

Despite the fact that he'd been throwing up before, the only thing Hermione tasted on Malfoy's lips was minty toothpaste, and she gasped at the sharp flavour. This, however, only allowed him access to the inside of her mouth, and his tongue darted in, finding hers and tangling with it. And of course, her body started to relax under his, and he took this as a sign to take it all up a notch. His hands began roaming her body, tracing over her curves and driving her sensations wild.

A hand cupped her breast, and the other trailed down to her thighs, where it lay still a moment before sliding up over her shorts. Her thighs parted instinctively and she let out a low moan, one that encouraged Malfoy to move his fingers over her mound, then up over her shorts and under the fabric. Hermione's hips bucked when his digits encountered bare flesh, and he made circular motions with his fingers. She could feel something building in her, an orgasm, and sure enough, some moments later, Malfoy's ministrations pushed her over the edge with a cry.

He nuzzled her neck, whispering that she was beautiful, that he wanted her, before kissing her again, and this time she responded eagerly. But before anything could happen, Malfoy went limp in her arms. Hermione waited a moment before pushing him so that he rolled off her, and it was then that she noticed that he'd fallen asleep. Quickly she gathered her senses and got off the bed, fixing her clothing and staring down at him with a feeling that was mixed disappointment and relief.

"Bastard!" she muttered and turned on her heel, stalking off to her room, her body still trembling slightly at the memory of his hands.

OoOoO

Draco woke the next morning with a pounding headache, but was glad to find that he was in his own bed, alone and completely dressed. Normally this wouldn't make him all that happy, but since he'd spent what he could recall of last night avoiding Pansy Parkinson like the plague, it was definitely a plus. After trying so hard to get her claws out of him, it would have been a step backwards if he'd ended up shagging her in his drunkenness.

No, it wouldn't have been a step back, he would have fallen off from a great height instead.

Groaning, he rolled out of bed and headed for the shower, praying that Granger had already been and gone from there. The last thing he needed this morning was her shrill voice telling him he deserved the throbbing pain because he'd brought it on himself. Blah, blah, blah. The thought of waking up in bed beside Granger flitted through his head, but then he shook the mental image away. She was too much of a prude for that.

Thankfully, there seemed to be no sign of Granger anywhere, and Draco had his shower in peace before he went down to the little kitchen to make himself some coffee to wake himself up. Once that was done, he went back up to his room and got his books together for class.

The first thing he noticed, though, was that Granger seemed to be avoiding him, for some reason. Did it have something to do with last night? Draco knew he'd gotten pretty sloshed, but had he said or done something to make her avoid him like this? If he'd said something insulting, then surely she would have made his morning hell and screeched at him in a Pansy-like manner to make him feel terrible? What could have happened that she would avoid him instead of confront him? Maybe he…

Good lord, did he come on to her? The thought wasn't too horrible, not like it would have been a year or so ago. But Draco had radically changed his outlook on life, and no longer considered people like Granger beneath him just because of their blood. The war had changed him, and quite a few of his friends, as well. However, he doubted that Granger would've appreciated a drunk coming on to her. She _was_ still a prude, after all.

In any case, whether or not he'd hit on her last night, he needed to act like nothing had happened. If he didn't, then it would be extremely awkward, and he wanted a stress free year, not one where he was avoiding someone at all cost. So when he waltzed into the common room that evening, full of arrogance and such, he calmly walked up to Granger and stood in front of her.

She looked up, and he could see hesitance in her eyes, and that confirmed that _something _at least had happened last night. "We need to go over that Prefect schedule, Granger," he told her. "Remember? After that incident with Parkinson and the Weasel the other night, we can't have them patrolling together again."

The incident he referred to was one where the Weasel had said something insensitive, as he was wont to do, and Pansy had blown a gasket, shrieking insults as she'd hexed his sorry arse into the next century. He had to admit, it was quite funny, but still… A couple of portraits had alerted the Headmistress, and both of them had detention together for three months to build on their ability to work in pairs.

Personally, Draco thought it was just asking for another disaster.

"O-oh right," Granger slightly stammered.

The prefects patrolling tonight weren't anyone they needed to worry about, some Hufflepuff and Ravenclaw whose names he forgot, but he was sure Granger remembered. That was why they worked so well as Heads. Whatever Draco forgot, Granger was sure to remember. He was good dealing with people and handing out punishment. She was good with the facts and giving people another chance.

"Well?" he asked, and she reluctantly stood and moved over to the work desk they used whenever they went over their schedules and such.

Three hours later they had paired Pansy with a sixth year Hufflepuff called Gordon, and Weasley was paired with Padma from Ravenclaw. After they were done, Granger said goodnight and went up to her dorm. After she was gone, Draco relocated to the couch and stared into the fireplace, deep in thought. She'd seemed relieved that he didn't remember whatever it was that happened the previous night, which naturally made Draco want to remember it.

There was a spell he knew, a recollection spell that was quite useful in helping to remember drunken activities. It was used a lot by the Wizengamot when dealing with people involved in fights and such that occurred whilst intoxicated. Draco's mother had taught him the spell two years ago, and this wasn't the first time he would have used it. So he got his wand out, pointed at his head, and murmured the spell.

The recollection hit him rather violently, and Draco coughed and sputtered at what he remembered. He'd gotten Granger off with his fingers, and then fallen asleep! Feeling a little embarrassed about falling asleep like that, Draco nonetheless vividly recalled just how responsive Granger… well, maybe he would call her Hermione now. Anyway, he was amazed at just how responsive she'd been. Not many girls were so open with their reactions, and it was rather refreshing.

No wonder she was avoiding him. Gra-er-Hermione, was probably mortified that she'd done that with him. After all, there was no way she would otherwise, he knew. She was pretty keen on the Weasel, which was obvious to the rest of the student population. They were probably even dating, considering how much time they spent together. She really was too good for him, in Draco's opinion.

Come to think of it, hadn't someone mentioned in passing recently that they'd seen the Weasel snogging Brown? Was he cheating on Hermione? A flare of irritation spiked in him, but Draco squashed it down. The romantic liaisons of Gryffindorks were none of his business, unless he was snogging one himself…

Like last night with Hermione.

Maybe he should explore this unexpected avenue with his room mate? It was certainly appealing, he'd already noticed that she had a hot body hidden under her school robes. And if she tried to say she was with the Weasel, well, he'd tell her the rumours going around about him and that Brown twit. Yes, let the seduction of Hermione Granger begin, or continue, whatever.

**So, hope you like it. No idea how long it will be, not very, probably. Review please!**


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